


In Which Tim is Dragged Into a Life of Crime

by GeneratorCat



Series: JayTim Week 2017- Summer Edition [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, kinda cute, kinda funny, kinda pointless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: “See you on the other side, buddy.”“It’s Jason.”“Tim.”“Nice to meet you.”“Wish I could say the same, but honestly...” Tim trails off, raising his eyebrows at the giant mop columns on either side of them.“Can’t say I blame y-” Jason’s reply is cut off by the first rinse cycle starting, spraying high-powered blasts of water.





	In Which Tim is Dragged Into a Life of Crime

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTim week, day four: car wash

Tim’s having a pretty good day until the cops start chasing him. 

He’s just walking along, headed to the arcade, minding his own business, when some kid comes sprinting out of an alley and crashes into him, knocking him to the ground. 

“Shit, shit,  _ fuck _ ,” the boy hisses, scrambling to untangle his legs from Tim’s. 

The clatter of running footsteps and shouting comes echoing from behind them, one of the voices panting, “I’ve got a visual on the suspects, at the corner of Park Row and 4th street. Both young, caucasian, male, wearing dark jeans. One has a black shirt and the other is red.”

Tim glances down. He’s wearing a red shirt...

The kid finally gets to his feet, then reaches down and pulls Tim up too. “We gotta go,” he urges, and starts to run.

Tim stumbles after him, shirt sleeve trapped in the boy’s fingers. “What? I’m not a suspect!” Tim protests. At the same time the police officer yells, “Freeze! GCPD, stay right where you are!” 

“You are now,” the boy shoots over his shoulder. “Come on!”

They take off down the street, weaving around bystanders at full speed. Tim glances back and spots two cops chasing after them. One is pudgy and winded, red in the face. He’s not going to last much longer. But the other is fit and determined, and while Tim and the other boy have a good lead, he’s closing in fast. 

Part of Tim wants to stop and talk to them, calmly explain that he has nothing to with any of this, but even he understands that the majority of the Gotham PD are more interested in collaring someone, anyone, than actually serving justice, and they wouldn’t believe him or care either way. So he can’t think about how or why he’s in this situation, only how to deal with it. How to get away. They’re coming up on an intersection and Tim grabs the kid and darts to the right, taking the corner so fast his sneakers slip across the concrete and he would’ve fallen if the guy hadn’t held him up. 

“Quick,” Tim pants, pointing to a light blue truck that’s taking the same turn, “jump in.”

“What? We have t’ keep running!”

Tim shakes his head. “Trust me,” he says, and hops into the bed of the truck, hauling the boy in after him. The truck is slow enough around the turn for them to manage it, and then it speeds up as it heads down 5th street. But only for a few feet before there’s traffic, and the truck slows to a stop. Tim flattens himself against the floor and tugs the boy down, and he follows easily. 

“Move over,” the kid whispers.

“What?”

“That cop’s gonna come ‘round that corner any second and if he looks over here he’ll see me.” He nudges at Tim, who scooches as far to the wall as he can. Then the guy presses up close, practically on top of him. 

Tim squeaks. 

That gets him a hand over his mouth. 

“Shush.”

Tim glares. 

The boy rolls his eyes. 

Tim considers shoving the kid off of him but then the pounding footsteps are coming closer. 

“Suspects turned west onto 5th. I’ve lost visual.” 

They both freeze. 

There’s some muffled radio chatter and then, “Copy that, I’ll check all the storefronts on this block. They must have ducked in somewhere.”

The boys stare at each other for a tense minute. Very quietly Tim asks, “Do you think he’s gone?”

“I don’t want to risk looking up to check,” the kid says, just as silently. 

Tim nods. “And even if he went into a shop, he could be back any second.”

“This truck needs to get a fuckin’ move on.”

Tim asks, “Why were you running anyway?” whispering just in case the policeman happens to walk by.

“Does it really matter?”

“It’d just be nice to know if I threw my lot in with a murderer or something.”

“Do I look like a killer to you?” he asks, and it’s genuinely curious, and maybe a touch hopeful. 

“A little.”

The boy perks up. “Really?”

“No.”

He gives a slow, unimpressed blink.

“So what was it,” Tim asks, “vandalism? Petty theft? Prostitution?”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty enough to be a hooker?” He smiles. “That’s so sweet.”

“That’s not what I...” Tim looks away, his cheeks going red. “Whatever. So what did you do?”

“I jacked the tires off a cruiser.”

“...You stole a  _ cop car’s tires? _ ”

“ _ Shh! _ ” He pauses, cocking an ear toward the world outside the truck bed. “Almost. They came back right as I was getting ready to roll the wheels off into the sunset. That’s why they were chasin’ us on foot, though. Couldn’t drive without the wheels,” he says with a satisfied grin. 

“What were you going to do with them?”

He looks at Tim like he’s an idiot. “Sell ‘em.”

“I didn’t realise there was a black market for cop car tires.”

“People are always lookin’ for quality tires.”

“Ah, so it didn’t have to be from law enforcement?”

“Nah, that part was just for fun.”

“Fun,” Tim echos faintly, and then the truck finally does get a fucking move on, and they breathe a sigh of relief. Tim looks up, watching the buildings pass slowly as the truck rolls forward. It doesn’t make it to the next intersection before turning right again. 

“Shit,” the kid spits. “We need to be moving  _ away _ from this block. Where the hell are we going?”

Tim reads a sign as they drive into… “Crap.”

“What?”

“It’s a car wash.”

The boy’s head jerks up enough to get a quick look. “Fuck. What do we do?”

The truck moves forward slowly, further into the automated car wash. Tim can see the nozzles and hoses pointed right at them. “We can’t leave, that cop is still out there.”

“You really wanna go through a car wash?”

A siren rings out, getting louder with each second.

“Would you rather run out to the street and say hi to the back-up?”

“Fine,” the boy says, gritting his teeth. “Let’s do this.”

“See you on the other side, buddy.”

“It’s Jason.”

“Tim.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Wish I could say the same, but honestly...” Tim trails off, raising his eyebrows at the giant mop columns on either side of them.

“Can’t say I blame y-” Jason’s reply is cut off by the first rinse cycle starting, spraying high-powered blasts of water. 

It’s cold and rough and thoroughly unpleasant. 

Tim, who’s been mostly on his back facing up, twists around so that he can protect his face and chest. This dislodges Jason from where he’d been laying on top of Tim, but he quickly repositions so that he’s next to Tim, one arm wrapped around him in a vain attempt to block the water from hitting Tim’s face. It’s sweet, Tim notes in the back of his mind. 

They huddle together, tucking their faces down against their chests. It doesn’t help all that much. Water is shooting at them from every angle. 

There’s a pause, and then the soap starts to spray. It makes Tim miss the rinse cycle. 

The water and soap pool in the bed of the truck, so the boys are practically swimming in a mess of foamy sludge. 

And then the scrubbers come.  

~

“Well that sucked.” 

Tim blinks up at the afternoon sun above them as the truck pulls out of the car wash, back onto the street. He can’t speak for a moment, but then he manages a small, but fervent, “ _ Sucked _ .” 

He probably won’t ever go near another car wash for the rest of his life. 


End file.
